


Until the End

by Xenobia



Series: Death's Doll [1]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-08 15:42:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1134472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xenobia/pseuds/Xenobia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place in the "Death's Doll" series I'm working on with StickieBun.  When Eric Slingby partnered up with promising young Dispatch agent Alan Humphries, he didn't expect such an enduring friendship to grow out of it, nor did he expect to fall in love.  After finding out that his partner is cursed with the Thorns of Death, he vows to share his suffering and be there with him until the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until the End

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TiBun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiBun/gifts).



"Until the End"

An Eric Slingby/Alan Humphries ficlet

 

**_Author's note:_ ** _I blame my roleplay partner Stickiebun for all the "Slingphries" feels I've been getting lately.  They had to be addressed.  This ficlet is sort of a fanfic of a rp fanfic we've been writing, detailing how they ended up as a couple and taking wedding vows._

****

**_Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler) and all characters therein belong to Yana Toboso.  I make no profit from the writing of this fanfiction, and it is strictly for entertainment purposes only_**. 

 

~xox~

* * *

 

"Alan, are you paying attention?"

 

The young Dispatch agent blinked and looked away uncomfortably as his assigned partner gave him a little frown.  He'd been caught staring again.  How unprofessional of him.  It was just...every time the sunlight struck Eric's golden hair, Alan couldn't help but find himself comparing the man to a lion.  Older than him, Eric was a tall man with handsome Gaelic features, a goatee and a thick head of blond hair.  One side was kept braided into cornrows while the rest fell free to his shoulders. 

 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Slingby," offered the brunet with a polite little bow.  "My mind drifted."

 

Eric snorted softly and shook his head.  "How many times do I have to tell you?  We're partners now, so call me by my first name.  You're an officer of Dispatch, not a trainee anymore."  He shrugged and walked a few paces away, tilting his head back a bit as a soft breeze stirred his hair.  Un-noticed behind him, Alan was again enchanted by the sight.  "We have to trust each other with our lives.  How can I be sure you'll save my arse if I make a mistake collecting records, if you're going to get stuck into the daydreaming at random moments?"

 

There it was; that hint of a Scottish burr that sometimes teasingly came out, but never fully took over.  Alan wondered what he would sound like if he stopped trying to mask it altogether.  He squared his shoulders and berated himself inwardly for his lack of discipline.  "You're right.  I have no excuse and I'll push myself to do better."

 

The older reaper turned and smirked, a twinkle lighting his green-gold eyes behind his blue-tinted glasses.  "Do you know why I asked to be assigned to you, Alan?"

 

The brunet shook his head, his gloved hands absently stroking his new death scythe; issued to him upon his promotion. 

 

"It's because you're passionate about your job," explained Eric.  "You take it seriously...a little more seriously than I do.  I think I need someone to keep me in line sometimes and remind me that collecting souls is as much a way of life for our kind as it is a career."  He winked at him.  "But sometimes I think you take yourself just a little _too_ seriously, lad.  Concentrate too hard on something and you're bound to slip up."

 

Alan's brows furrowed, even as his heart skipped a beat in response to that wink.  "How can anyone concentrate too hard?  Dedication and focus are part of what makes a good Shinigami agent."

 

"True, but there's such a thing as pushing yourself too hard."  Eric turned to face him fully and he stepped closer to him, reaching out to lay his hands on the brunet's slim shoulders and give them a comforting squeeze.  "We're reapers, Alan.  We have centuries to perfect our skills.  In your hurry to master your scythe, you're missing out on the little things _and_ you're cramming too much into your head.  Relax a bit.  Let it come to you naturally, and I know you'll be one of the best.  You might even outrank me, some day."

 

Alan smiled hesitantly.  "I don't know about _that_ , but I do want to become one of the best."

 

"You will," said Eric with confidence, "but you need to slow down a little.  What's your hurry?  It isn't as though our lives have mortal time limits."

 

Alan winced inwardly, and he briefly put a hand over his heart.  "No, I suppose not."

 

~xox~

* * *

 

He hadn't told him the whole truth.  Yes, he honestly thought Alan would be a good foil to his sometimes impulsive nature, and he truly believed he had potential to be one of the best.  The dedicated young brunet sparred with passion, proving that his small frame was quite capable of matching or even dominating the skills of larger reapers.  The ability to fight off danger such as demons or other supernaturals was a must, in their line of work.  Eric could proudly say with confidence that his partner could wipe the floor with just about anyone in his own class, along with quite a few more seasoned reapers.

 

But that wasn't all that drove him to request him as a partner.  He thought of Alan's sculpted, angular features, with the high cheekbones, arching brows and almost delicate chin.  As he lay in bed that night he kept thinking of that face, and the soft, well-groomed brown hair that he kept trimmed to the collar.  He thought of his gentle voice, and how poetically words flowed from his lips.  He could listen to that voice all day long and never tire of it.  He recalled the way Alan's body fit against his when he'd pinned him in a sparring match earlier that day, and the way their eyes had locked for one brief, heart-stopping moment.

 

Alan Humphries was too damned cute for his own good.  Eric harrumphed and squirmed in his bed, locking his fingers behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling.  He offered himself some rough criticism; as he usually tended to do when he was alone in his flat.

 

"Eric, m'lad...yer an eejit.  Why cannae ya jus' pick a reasonable target ta moon o'er?"

 

But no, he had to do things the hard way...he _always_ did things the hard way.  It was the bane of his existence, to overcomplicate even the simplest things.  He never seemed to fall for the available ones, oh no.  He had to get attracted to the ones that were already taken, or in the case of Alan, the ones he worked with.  Dating within one's department was frowned upon at best, and he had no reason to believe the attraction he felt for his partner was mutual.

 

Eric pulled his hands out from behind his head and reached for the spare pillow to cram it over his face and groan into it.

 

~xox~

* * *

 

Both partners tried to conceal their attraction to each other as time passed, and without even trying, they forged a more meaningful bond through friendship.  Eric brought easy smiles to Alan's face with stories of his younger days in the academy and some of the mischief he used to get up to, and Alan inspired a greater appreciation of literature and poetry in him.  They would stay up for hours after work or training, talking about their jobs, their hopes, their favorite things to enjoy.  They grew to trust one another implicitly, and by the time two years had passed, they were practically inseparable. 

 

One day while they were out walking together, Eric spotted a patch of striking flowers with pale blue-violet petals, and he squatted down to observe them with interest.  "Huh.  I don't think I've ever seen flowers like these before," he murmured. 

 

His partner's shadow fell over him, and Alan's soft voice spoke up.  "Those?  They're called Erica flowers.  It means _'loneliness'_."

 

Eric twisted a little to look up at the younger reaper's suddenly pensive face.  "Loneliness, is it?"

 

"Yes."  Alan nodded, his gaze seeming faraway.  "Everyone is alone...from the time they are born until their last moments."

 

Eric frowned pensively, and he stood up and wiped his pants off.  He looked down at his enigmatic young partner seriously, wishing he could share whatever burden seemed to trouble his mind so often.  "Is that what you believe?"

 

Alan's gaze met his, and he nodded.  "I know it isn't pretty, but it is the simple truth."

 

The breeze blew the shorter reaper's bangs across his eyes, and Eric impulsively reached out to stroke them back into place.  A delicate, faint blush colored Alan's high cheekbones, and the older reaper grinned.  It only took a simple touch, smile or wink to make Alan do that, and though he had yet to be fool enough to act on his desires, the blond enjoyed provoking those blushes.

 

"Are you sure about that?  After all the souls we've collected and catalogued together, I think you should know better.  Aye, some die alone, but plenty of others pass on surrounded by loved ones.  You've seen them, standing by their bedsides, comforting them."

 

Alan shrugged and lowered his gaze.  "Yes, I've seen them.  The fact remains that their families and friends can't follow where they go, in the end."

 

Eric studied him quietly.  Sometimes Alan seemed much older than his years, in his quiet wisdom.  Still, he resisted the idea that everyone had to be completely alone.  "You don't have to be lonely, Alan.  You have me."

 

The smaller man looked up at him again, parting his lips.  The sun hid behind a cloud, casting a shadow over both of them.  Alan sighed and looked away again.  "You can't always be there for me."

 

"I can try."  Eric patted his shoulder solemnly.  "You're my best friend, and my partner.  I'll be with you always, if you'll let me."

 

Alan blushed again in response to the way Eric's voice deepened and softened at the end.  "Why do you hide your accent?"

 

Eric blinked, surprised by the question.  "Er...I suppose because most people have trouble understanding me, if I don't.  It's an old habit I picked up from my academy days.  Other fledglings made fun of me and my instructors got onto me all the time, telling me to speak proper."

 

Alan rolled his eyes.  "'Proper'.  How stupid.  Say something Scottish for me."

 

"Like Gaelic Scottish, or just...with the accent?"

 

The brunet's eyes lit up.  "Oh, I meant with the accent...but I would love to hear something in Gaelic, as well."

 

Eric thought about it, scanning Alan with his eyes for inspiration.  After a moment, his gaze fastened on the brunet's lips and he smirked and leaned in close to murmur into his ear.  " _An toir thu dhomh p_ _òg?_ "

 

Those lips parted again with innocent wonder.  "What does that mean?"

 

Against his better judgment, the blond confessed in a heavy Scottish accent.  "I asked fer a kiss."

 

Alan gasped, his eyes going wide.  "Eric!  That's...that really isn't..."

 

"Proper?" supplied the older reaper with a wink. 

 

"W-well, if you went around asking people for kisses when you were in training, I can see why they called you improper," sputtered Alan.  His cheeks were now quite rosy—but he couldn't seem to tear his eyes off Eric's.

 

The blond seriously considered stealing a kiss then and there, but he restrained himself and he laughed.  "Yer tha first coworker I ever asked that, m' friend.  It was worth it ta see yer face!"

 

Alan punched him in the arm.  "Think that's funny?"

 

Eric punched him back.  "Aye, I think it's hilarious!  Want ta do somethin' about it, ya tiny little man?"

 

Alan's lips quirked and he gave him another punch.  "Keep going and I'll have you on your back again like the last time."

 

Eric's brows shot up.  "Is tha' a threat, or a promise?"

 

"Quit flirting!"  Alan lunged at him and he blocked it.

 

"But it's so fun ta see how flustered yeh get o'er it!"  Eric took advantage of Alan's distracted state, and he hooked his leg around the smaller reaper's, making his knee buckle.  He followed him down and pinned him to the grass, chuckling all the while.  "What was tha' about having me on ma back?"

 

Winded and stunned, Alan stared up at him as he caught his breath.  He strained against Eric's hold on his wrists, pinned on either side of his head.  "You took advantage," he accused.

 

Eric nodded.  "I surely did...as any opponent would, mind ya.  Cannae let yer emotions rule yer head, remember?"  His chuckles faded and he stared down at him, admiring the way his hair framed his blushing face.  "Someone else might consider takin' further advantage of yeh, if he got yeh pinned like this."

 

Alan's breath quickened further, and the two reapers could feel the thump of their hearts beating almost in unison between the press of their chests.  "If it were someone else, I wouldn't let them."

 

That simple statement put Eric in a state that forced him to shift on top of his partner, or risk digging certain parts against his hip.  Alan seemed to realize what he'd just implied, and he gasped and bit his lip. 

 

"I...was just flirting back," he excused.  "You started it!"

 

Eric laughed heartily.  Oh, how he loved this reaper.  Even if he could never have him the way he wanted him, every moment with Alan was worth a thousand with anyone else in the world.  He released him and he got to his feet, offering him a hand up.  "Come on," he said, dropping his native accent once more to sound more like an Englishman.  "There's a party tonight on the other side of town.  Want to go?"

 

Alan took his hand and got to his feet.  His cheeks began to cool as they stepped back from each other, the pigment returning to the fair tone once more.  "You know I'm not really into parties."

 

"Oh, come on," urged the blond.  "This is going to be a good one.  Knox is throwing it in celebration of his promotion."

 

"Ronald Knox?"  Alan raised a brow.  "He's always throwing parties, and they tend to get wild."

 

"Just come with me for a little while," persisted Eric.  "He graduated the same class as you, right?  Just drop in to congratulate him and have a drink with me, and if you still want to go after that, we can."

 

Alan sighed.  "One of these days, I'm going to have to learn how to say 'no' to you."

 

~xox~

* * *

 

They arrived in time to see Ronald Knox fall off the kitchen table of his apartment.  He landed amidst a couple of girls from Human Resources and they shrieked and laughingly caught him.  He shook his feathered, yellow-blond head to clear it and he held a finger up.

 

"I'm okay!  We're all okay!  Sorry, ladies."

 

"Oh, Ronnie," sighed a flamboyant, slender reaper with androgynous looks and crimson red hair flowing down to his hips.  He tapped one of those hips delicately and waved his finger in a chastising manner.  "You are _such,_ an amateur!  Allow me to show you how table dancing is really done."

 

Grell Sutcliff hopped nimbly up on the table and handed his cocktail over to another young Dispatch agent, and he began to gyrate and sing along with the music that was playing.  Ronald laughed and steadied himself, before retrieving a fresh bottle of beer from the refrigerator.  He spotted Eric and Alan and he waved at them before bounding over.

 

"Hey, you two!  Glad you could make it.  Hey, check out my new death scythe...I just got it customized today!"

 

Somehow managing not to spill his beer, the impulsive young blond manifested  the strangest looking death scythe that Alan had ever seen.  "What _is_ that?"  He pointed at the red and chrome thing, trying to imagine how one would wield it to gather records or attack an enemy.

 

"It's a lawn mower," supplied Ronald with a shrug.  "Pretty cool, huh?"

 

Even Eric was frowning dubiously.  "It looks sort of clumsy."

 

"Naw, it's easy."  Ronald pulled a chord and it roared to life.  "This baby can cut through anything!"

 

"All death scythes can do that," reminded Alan with a smirk.

 

"Yeah, but _this_ one has flash."  Ronald patted the mower lovingly.  "Nobody has a scythe like this!"

 

"How did you manage to get it modified without the supervisors coming down on your head?" asked Alan, looking at the scythe with interest.

 

"I know some people."  Ronald banished the scythe.  "If you want your scythe modified, I could pull some strings for you."

 

"Thank you, no," Alan said with a shake of his head.  He didn't feel the need to be "flashy" to do a good job, but neither did he fault an extrovert like Ronald for wanting to stand out.  "I like mine as it is."

 

Ronald shrugged.  "I guess understated works for some folks.  Help yourselves to some drinks, guys.  The night is young!"

 

Alan heard a commotion by the table, and he looked up to see a very drunk young man he recognized from Personnel slipped a currency note into Grell's underwear.  The outrageous redhead had stripped at some point, down to a pair of feminine, lacy red panties with black trim.

 

"Take it off!" called the drunk reaper as Grell blew him a kiss. 

 

Alan's jaw dropped.  "Oh good lord!  How much has he had to drink?"

 

Eric glanced and quickly averted his eyes, blinking.  "About as much as I'm going to need to drink, to forget that sight.  Come on, Alan."  He grabbed the brunet's arm and began to steer him toward the kitchen.  "Just cover your eyes as we pass by him."

 

"Shouldn't someone stop him?" Alan stumbled after his partner, grimacing as Grell spun gracefully and ran his red-painted nails over his slim chest.

 

Ronald looked up at his mentor and he shrugged again.  "Senpai is...well, he's Grell.  You can try to stop him, if ya want."

 

Eric tactfully placed himself between the table and Alan as they pushed through the crowd and into the kitchen.  "Wine, beer or spirits?" offered the taller reaper with a smirk once they made it safely to the counter.  He inspected the selection and he retrieved one of the stacked glasses to pour himself a whiskey. 

 

"I...suppose I'll take a glass of chardonnay," answered the brunet uncertainly.  He glanced over at the table and he immediately wished he hadn't.  Grell was now rolling onto his back and extending a leg in the air.  He _still_ wanted to know how he'd shed his clothes so fast and where they were.  A hand waved before his eyes and he looked up at his partner as Eric offered him a wine glass.

 

"Oh, thank you."  Alan held the glass steady as Eric poured the wine for him. 

 

"If you keep staring at him like that, I might get jealous."  Eric smiled crookedly at him and winked as he replaced the stopper and put the wine back onto the counter. 

 

"I'm not staring," protested Alan.  "I'm just...amazed."

 

"You're amazed that Sutcliff got into his cups and stripped?"  Eric chuckled.  " _I'm_ amazed that anything he does can still amaze you."

 

Alan was in the middle of taking a sip of his wine, and he coughed and laughed.  "Good point.  I really shouldn't—"

 

A sharp pain made his breath catch, and he dropped the wine glass and put a hand over his chest.  "Oh...not now..."

 

"Alan?!"  Eric dropped his drink as well and put his arms around him as he sank to his knees.  "Alan, what's wrong?  Are you choking?"

 

Alan would have told him how ridiculous that question was, since reapers didn't require air in the first place.  He couldn't speak through the pain though, and it was all he could do to keep from collapsing entirely.  He shook his head and clutched at his chest, trying to breathe through the pain even though he didn't need air to survive.  His doctor had taught him the breathing exercise to help manage the attacks, but he was so alarmed over having one in front of his colleagues that he couldn't remember the rhythm.

 

"Ah...E-Eric," he gasped, grabbing for his partner like a lifeline as his vision went black around the edges.

 

The music stopped and he heard distorted voices as everyone gathered around him.  His glasses fell off, and he looked up at Eric's blurred, worried features.  It was the last thing he saw before he passed out.

 

~xox~

* * *

 

"It's called the Thorns of Death," explained Alan's doctor an hour later, after Eric and Ronald brought him in to the infirmary. 

 

Eric looked helplessly at Ronald, who shrugged unknowingly.  "What in the hell is that?  Shinigami don't get sick, except for when we don't get enough rest."

 

"This malady is unique to our kind," answered the doctor, "and extremely rare.  It's been hundreds of years since the last case, in fact."

 

"Well, what is it?" Eric demanded, his concerned gaze going to his unconscious partner, lying on the nearby hospital bed.

 

"It isn't a disease as mortals know it," said the doctor.  "It's a curse.  Consider it a potential hazard of the occupation.  Once in a very great while, some reapers fall under this curse and develop the thorns inside of them.  They grow slowly over time, and eventually pierce the heart."

 

Eric broke into a sweat.  "Why haven't you removed them?  Surgery should—"

 

"Surgery isn't possible without killing the subject," interrupted the doctor.  "It has been tried before.  I've prescribed a medication to Mr. Humphries that successfully slows the process to less than half the normal growth rate, but I'm afraid all I can do is buy him more time."

 

"There's no cure?" Ronald asked.

 

"None."  The doctor looked at Alan, his face expressing some regret.  "We've researched the curse extensively, to no avail.  Historically, every reaper to fall victim to this curse eventually succumbed.  There is no cure."

 

"There must be something," insisted Eric.  "Even mortal medicine..."

 

"It has been tried, like the surgery.  I'm sorry Mr. Slingby, but there's nothing solid...only a vague myth that has never been proven to be true."

 

"What's the myth?"

 

The doctor shook his head.  "Nothing more than superstition, Mr. Slingby.  You'd best put it out of your head."

 

Desperately, Eric grabbed the doctor by his lab coat and shook him.  "Tell me!"

 

"Whoa, Eric Senpai...calm down."  Ronald stared at him with wide eyes.

 

"Legend says that an infected reaper can be rid of the curse if he collects a thousand souls," grunted the doctor, trying to pry Eric's hands off of him.  "Let go of me, before I call security!"

 

Eric did let go of him, and he ran his fingers through his hair, turning in a circle before approaching Alan's bedside again.  He knelt before it and placed his hand over one of his partner's.  "A thousand souls...Alan, why didn't you tell me?"

 

Behind him, Ronald bit his lip and glanced meaningfully at the doctor, then the door.  Eric didn't hear them leave the hospital room; he was too absorbed in pondering the legend of the cure.

 

~xox~

* * *

 

He awoke feeling light-headed, but the pain was gone.  He heard a deep voice singing something softly in another language, and he frowned.  What _was_ that enchanting song?  He opened his eyes and he winced at the light.  The singing paused and a hand reached out to dim the light over his bed, making it more bearable.  He recognized the cologne before he saw his partner's face, and he inhaled deeply.

 

"Eric?"

 

"Aye."  The older reaper's hand squeezed his, nearly encasing it in its larger grip.

 

"Were you...just singing to me?"

 

Eric shrugged.  "Just an old Scottish lullaby.  Ya were thrashin' in yer sleep."

 

Alan returned the pressure of the warm, calloused hand and he opened his eyes again to look up at the handsome face of the man hovering over him.  "What happened?"

 

Eric picked up his hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the knuckles softly.  The tuft of beard brushed against Alan's skin, tickling it.  "Ya collapsed, love.  One minute yeh were laughin', an' th' next thing I knew, ya were holdin' yer chest like yeh were havin' a heart attack.  Scared tha livin' piss outta me an' everyone else."

 

"Oh.  I'm really sorry.  I didn't mean to scare anyone."  His heart pounded in response to the soft kiss and the way Eric had called him "love".

 

Eric frowned down at him accusingly.  "Why didnae yeh tell me, Alan?  About the Thorns."

 

Alan looked away, adopting some of Ronald's slang.  "Because I knew you would bust your ass trying to find a cure for me, and there is none."

 

"There's always hope," insisted the blond.  "Ya cannae just give up."

 

Alan smiled and closed his eyes.  "Your accent is back."

 

He heard Eric swallow, and when he spoke again, he tamed the Scottish burr.  "It always creeps up on me when I'm upset."

 

"Don't disguise it," pleaded Alan.  "I like to hear it.  It's...sexy."

 

"Of all the times ta start flirtin' back wi' me," said Eric tightly.  "Alan, I..."

 

Alan turned his head toward him again and he opened his eyes to look up at him.  Eric trailed off, cursed softly and lowered his mouth to his.  For a moment, Alan wondered if he'd fallen asleep without knowing it and slipped into a dream...but Eric's lips were warm and quite real against his.

 

" _Tha gaol agam ort_ ," whispered Eric against his lips when the soft, heavenly kiss ended.

 

Alan stared at him, his mouth tingling from the contact.  It was his turn to swallow.  "What did you just say to me?"

 

The blond lowered his gaze and shrugged.  "I...said I love you."  He looked him in the eye again, his expression serious.  "An' I do, Alan.  No' just as a friend, either."

 

The brunet started to smile, his lips curving against his will at the surge of happiness he felt.  "You do?  You aren't just teasing me, are you?"

 

Eric shook his head, his lion's main animated with the motion.  "I'd ne'er tease at a time like this.  When ya collapsed, I knew it in my bones.  I had ta tell yeh, even if ya don't feel th' same."

 

Alan cradled the declaration in his mind, embracing it with joy he never knew possible.  "Eric...how do I say _'I love you too'_ in Gaelic?"

 

For the first time ever, Alan got the privilege of seeing his partner blush.  "Ah...tha' would be ' _Tha gaol agam ort-fhèin'_."

 

Alan tried to repeat it, his tongue twisting around the fluid language uncertainly.  Eric smiled at him and he squirmed.  "Well, you know what I meant to say."

 

"It was clear enough," decided the blond, and he lowered his mouth to Alan's for another kiss. 

 

~xox~

* * *

 

Later that night after he was discharged from the hospital, Alan stayed over at Eric's flat.  They talked about his situation and he made Eric promise to him that he wouldn't take it into his head to test the myth concerning the collection of a thousand souls.

 

"But Alan," protested the blond, "they're doomed to die anyway, eventually."

 

"So am I," Alan pointed out, "and so are you, for that matter.  Nothing lives forever in the flesh; not even reapers."

 

"But—"

 

Alan kissed him then, cutting off his protests.  "No.  I won't have you turning into a murderer.  If we stop valuing their lives, then we stop valuing our own...and our jobs.  Every experience they have goes into the cinematic records, Eric, and if we cut that short before it's time, who knows what sort of imbalance may happen?  We are gods of Death, but that doesn't make us common killers."

 

Eric sighed and squeezed his hands.  "I won't give up.  We'll find some way to fight this."

 

Alan smiled a little sadly.  "Even if we can't, I will always be honored to know you care so much to try.  Maybe...I'm not as alone as I thought."

 

"Never," assured Eric.  He kissed him again.  "I'll be with you always."

 

Alan kissed him back, and he slid a hand into the partly unbuttoned opening of the taller reaper's shirt.  He toyed with the chain he wore around his neck; a simple piece of jewelry that Alan had always found very sexy.  He caressed his chest and he parted his lips to let Eric's tongue into his mouth.  The Scotsman took the invitation, tenderly invading his mouth and stroking inside.  Alan's heartbeat picked up as his partner's tongue fenced with his own.  Eric turned on the couch, leaning over him as his fingers began to busily unbutton Alan's shirt. 

 

Suddenly, the Scotsman stopped and pulled back, breathing heavily.  "Sorry," he gasped.  "I'm gettin' carried away."

 

Alan shook his head and slid his fingers through Eric's hair, drawing him back to him again.  His body throbbed with desire too long unanswered.  Ordinarily conservative with his affections, Alan realized that his time was limited, and he didn't want to spend it all trying to play hard to get.  He wanted to be with Eric, and he wanted their first time to be tonight.  "No you aren't.  Eric...let's get into bed."

 

He nearly laughed at the fit of expressions that warred across Eric's face.  Surprise, excitement, and finally doubt.  "Love, are yeh sure yer strong enough ta do this?  We can wait."

 

"I don't want to wait."  Alan kissed his throat and undid a few more buttons.  Eric tilted his head back and embraced him as his hands eased into his shirt to explore his chest.  "We've been partners for nearly four years now, and I've spent most of that time fighting my attraction to you."

 

His lips traveled up to Eric's left ear, and he nibbled the lobe and drew a shiver from him.  "I'm fine now.  The spells only last a short while, and they don't happen very often.  You won't hurt me."

 

Eric's voice was husky as he answered.  "I was'na expectin' this.  No' at all.  Yer usually such a prude..."

 

Alan pinched him in the side, making him grunt.  "Just because I have a sense of propriety doesn't mean I'm a prude.  Don't you want me?"

 

"God, yes," gasped the blond, and suddenly his mouth was hot and animated against Alan's. 

 

The transition was so abrupt and startling that all the brunet could do was gasp into the kiss and cling to him as Eric scooped him up and lifted him with hardly a grunt of effort.  Lip-locked with the other reaper, Alan was carried out of the living room and down the hallway to the bedroom.  He played with the hoop piercing Eric's right earlobe as he kissed him, feeling secure and safe in his arms.  Eric nudged the bedroom door open with his foot and brought Alan into the darkened room, carrying him toward the bed.

 

Unfortunately, he didn't see the small pile of clothes he'd left on the floor that morning and he tripped over them.  Alan tightened his arms around his partner's neck as Eric swore and stumbled, fully expecting them both to go down.  The blond somehow recovered his balance without dropping the slender young man in his arms, and he paused at the bedside and took a deep breath of relief. 

 

"Tha' was close," muttered Eric.  "Sorry."

 

"It wouldn't have happened if you would keep your room tidier," chastised Alan with a smirk.  "What's so hard about tossing your laundry in the basket when you change clothes?"

 

"It's clear across tha room," argued Eric with a smirk of his own.  "I've gotten better about it, though."

 

Alan kissed him again.  "I'll be the judge of that in the morning."

 

"I'll have ta try an' behave myself," chuckled Eric.  He lay Alan down on the bed and he followed him, clicking on the lamp before pulling his shirt open and shrugging it off. 

 

Alan started to lecture him again as the garment fluttered to the floor, but the words stuck in his throat as Eric's lightly tanned, toned chest and arms were revealed to him.  He had an athletic build that was neither bulky nor lean.  Alan's breath caught at the sight of him.  He'd imagined Eric's body to be as sexy as his smile and his voice, and he wasn't disappointed.  He blushed predictably as that tawny form covered his, and he embraced him. 

 

"I want ta make yeh feel like yer in Heaven," purred Eric, kissing him softly.  He balanced his weight on one arm and began to finish removing Alan's shirt.  "I want ta know what it's like ta hear yeh moan ma name, Alan."

 

The brunet could have echoed those sentiments exactly, but he still couldn't find the breath to speak.  That voice...that body...that hair...he _already_ felt like he was in Heaven, and he was ashamed to admit he had no talent for pillow talk.  He tried to make up for his lack of verbal expression by physically demonstrating his feelings.  He lifted his head off the pillow and he started to kiss Eric's skin with feverish need, running his hands over the strong back and parting his thighs.  The blond's hips settled between them and a sound finally emerged from Alan's throat when he felt Eric's arousal pressing against his through their clothes.

 

"Eric," gasped the brunet against his chest.  He closed his lips around a nipple and flicked his tongue against it, his desire for his partner overcoming his natural shyness. 

 

Eric's breath caught in response, and he growled softly with pleasure.  He yanked Alan's shirt open, not bothering with the final buttons.  They popped off and Alan didn't even care as they scattered across the floor.  He thought he heard the material rip and a primal surge of lust went through him that he wouldn't have expected.  He would have thought such aggression would turn him off, but just the notion that he excited Eric enough to make him tear his clothes made him feel wanted...and powerful.  He tickled the other nipple with his tongue and he moaned as Eric's big hand stroked his smooth chest and stomach.

 

"Yer just as I'd imagined," gasped Eric, drawing back for a moment to gaze down at him with appreciation.  "Lithe...tight little muscles movin' smooth as water.  Alan, love...I've wanted this fer so damned long..."

 

Alan gasped as that strong hand cupped him between the legs, massaging his groin through his trousers. 

 

"Shh," soothed Eric when the brunet blurted a startled protest.  "I moved to fast. I apologize fer that.  I'll try ta be more gentle wi' yeh."

 

Alan relaxed, his eyes fluttering shut with pleasure as his lover fondled him with a lighter touch.  "It just...startled me for a moment.  Eric...oh, Eric!"

 

The Scotsman responded to that with a kiss, and another purring growl resonated in his throat.  Alan squirmed impatiently as his touch seemed to ignite fire in his veins.  He rubbed against the hand cupping him and he slipped his own hands lower, running his palms over the tight ridges of muscle on Eric's torso.  He undid the other reaper's belt and he unfastened his trousers, tugging down on them urgently.  He felt Eric's feet pushing against his and he allowed them to slide his loafers off.  Eric's soon followed.  Somehow he managed to maneuver their socks off next and he lifted up to let Alan push his pants down.  His erection came free of its confines as the garment was shoved down over his hips, and he grunted as Alan curled his hand around it.

 

"Ah, yer a surprisin' lad," gasped Eric as the brunet lovingly stroked the thick, hard length of his arousal.  "So shy one minute, an' a firebrand tha next.  I ne'er knew yeh were so passionate."

 

Every time he spoke, it only fanned the flames of Alan's desire.  He wasn't terribly experienced, but that didn't matter to him.  He was a little nervous, but he was determined to make this a night that both of them would remember.  "Want to touch you," gasped Alan.  "Want you...inside me."

 

Eric again took him by surprise, moving without warning to roll over onto his back and drag Alan on top of him.  He cupped his bottom and stared up at him with smoldering eyes as Alan straightened up and braced his hands on the broad expanse of his chest. 

 

"Touch me then, sexy."  Eric pulled Alan's damaged shirt off and tossed it aside, his glittering eyes encouraging on him.  His glasses had fallen off at some point, but he didn't seem to care. 

 

A bit at a loss, Alan hesitantly caressed the older reaper's heaving chest.  Eric's hands stroked over his shoulders and arms and he held still beneath him, giving him the chance to explore his body at leisure.  "Ye've got such a gentle touch," sighed the blond, closing his eyes as Alan again gripped his cock and stroked it, while still tracing the lines and angles of his torso with his other hand.

 

"Too gentle?"  He was feeling shy again.  Soon they would be joined intimately, and Alan worried that he wouldn't please him.

 

Eric opened his eyes and smiled up at him.  "No...just right."  He started working on undoing Alan's pants.  "Don't stop, sweetheart."

 

Alan swelled even further in his pants—if possible—and he touched him with more confidence.  "You remind me of a lion," he admitted softly as he stroked his hand over the expanse of his chest, feeling the strength beneath his palm.  "Sleek and powerful and...I'm sorry...I'm really not very good at pillow talk."

 

"I disagree."  Eric winked up at him.  "Ye've the heart of a poet, Alan.  Everything ya say comes out as a song, ta me."  He freed Alan's cock from his trousers and he reciprocated what the brunet was doing to him, curling his hand around the shaft and stroking up and down the length of it.

 

"What about _my_ touch?" he urged as Alan gasped and pushed into his hand.  "Am I too rough?"

 

Alan shook his head, his brows furrowing as he fought the urge to moan again.  "N-no.  You...hold it like you own it."

 

Eric grinned.  "Do I own it, Alan?  Is this sweet body of yers all mine?"

 

Alan nodded enthusiastically, losing the battle against his voice.  The moan finally burst free, followed by a hitching gasp as Eric's thumb rubbed the flushed tip of his arousal.  "Ah...ahhh!  Yes...I am yours completely, Eric."

 

The Scotsman sat up and embraced him, kissing him fiercely.  He put his free arm around him and held him tight, still fondling his erection with the other hand.  "An' I'm yers," he promised huskily, breaking the kiss just long enough to make the declaration. 

 

~xox~

* * *

 

They kissed, fondled and cuddled until neither of them could bear to wait any longer, and then Eric retrieved a gel for lubrication from his bathroom and prepared Alan's body for him.  Despite his big fingers and assertive passion, he was very gentle with him.  Alan was near to bursting with need by the time his partner had stretched him enough, and when he was confident that he was ready for him, Eric directed him to straddle him.  The Scotsman sat up and embraced him as Alan took him into his body, his kisses cutting off the brunet's moans as he began to take him into his body.

 

"Hurt?" Eric asked breathlessly, holding still beneath him as he rubbed his back.

 

"A little," confessed Alan, "but it won't hurt for long, once I get used to it."  He eased down further and bit his lip, breathing heavily through his nostrils as Eric's hardness eased into him, inch by inch.

 

Eric shivered and groaned, burying his face against Alan's neck.  "Tha' feels so lovely.  Sweet Hades, yer tight..."

 

Alan stroked his golden hair and he rested his cheek against the top of his head, lifting up a little before easing back down to sheathe more of him.  "It's...been some time.  I haven't been with...anyone since the academy."

 

Eric felt a stab of jealousy in his heart at the mere thought of another touching his Alan.  He didn't take it out on his partner, though.  It was a petty emotion, one that had no place here.  Alan was his now.  His friend, his partner, his lover.  He moved inside of him carefully, lifting his hips to fill him deeper.  His eyes nearly rolled with pleasure as the narrow heat gripped him tightly, and he held him tighter, kissing his neck.

 

"I wanted ta send yeh to Heaven tonight," he gasped shakenly against the smooth skin, thrusting a little deeper.  "But yer sending me there faster, I think."

 

Alan gasped and moaned, trembling in his arms.  "I'm following close behind," he promised when he could speak again.  He started to rock in his lap, his breath escaping in a rush each time Eric's length slid deeply into him.  His fingers sifted through the blond's hair, before his hands cupped his face and urged him to tilt his head back.  As soon as Eric did so, Alan kissed him desperately.

 

A groan reverberated in Eric's throat and he thrust his tongue aggressively into his lover's mouth, pumping his hips slowly.  He reached down to fondle Eric's erection as they rocked together, his breath intermingling with Alan's.  The tightness around him began to ease as the brunet's body began to adjust, and the brunet began to undulate faster.  Eric lifted his hips to give a firm thrust, provoking another moan from Alan.  He clenched his teeth, feeling like he might climax soon.  He wanted it to last—at least long enough to bring Alan to completion first.

 

"Alan...sweetheart," he groaned, pumping faster to match the younger man's motions.  Another growl surfaced and he held Alan tighter, stroking his throbbing erection faster.  He heard the brunet's breath hitch and he smiled.  "Tha's it...come for me, Alan."

 

"Ahh...ohhh..." Alan began to tremble uncontrollably.  His motions became erratic and he curled his fingers into Eric's hair.  His moans became cries as his pleasure built and his cock began to tighten up.

 

"Aye...that's it," enthused Eric roughly.  "God, yeh feel so good...Alan."

 

He bucked beneath him, filling him hard and deep as the brunet tossed his head back and groaned his name.  Alan came in his hand, his body clenching rhythmically around Eric's length as it happened.  The Scotsman's groan echoed his, and he lay his cheek on his shoulder and tensed up beneath him.  Alan's climax was just finishing when Eric's began, and the older reaper panted helplessly as he filled his lover with his seed.

 

They sat entwined for several moments after riding out their orgasms, clinging to each other and panting in the afterglow.  Eric finally tilted his head back for a kiss, which Alan eagerly granted him.  Eric released his sated shaft and embraced him in full, his softening cock still wedged inside of him.  He kissed him tenderly, his breath finally slowing as he recovered from the experience.

 

"Tha' was everything I'd hoped for an' more," he admitted when he broke the kiss.  "I wasnae too rough with ya, was I?"

 

"No," assured Alan with a sigh of contentment.  "It was perfect, Eric.  Just perfect."

 

Eric smiled and gave him a squeeze, careful not to do it too tightly.

 

~xox~

* * *

 

The next morning, Alan awoke to the smell of eggs and bacon frying in the kitchen.  He yawned and stretched, rolling over to Eric's side of the bed, where the older man's body heat still lingered.  He sighed and snuggled deeper into the covers.  He could smell Eric's scent all over him, and he smiled.  He'd been sore when he went to sleep last night, but his body had already recovered from that.  Alan sat up and stretched again, before looking around for his clothes.  He frowned, finding no trace of them or Eric's on the floor.  That was unusual.  Had the man actually picked them up?  The thought that Eric had tidied up for his sake made Alan smile.  There was one problem, though; he had nothing to wear.

 

He got out of bed and looked around blearily for something to cover himself with.  He found his glasses on the nightstand and he slipped them on thankfully.  Once he could see, he spotted a white bathrobe draped over the foot of the bed that he'd failed to notice before.  Guessing that Eric must have left it for him, he slipped it on and tied it shut.  It was a bit long in the arms, so he rolled back the sleeves a little before leaving the bedroom to follow the smells and sounds from the kitchen.

 

Eric was by the stove, dressed in a matching bathrobe.  He was busy tending breakfast and he turned slightly as Alan approached, sensing his presence.  "Morning," he greeted.  His accent was once again masked, and he sounded more like an Englishman than a Scotsman.  "I tossed your clothes in the wash with mine.  If you want a shower while I finish cooking breakfast, I put a fresh towel in the bathroom for you."

 

"Thank you," Alan said politely.  He could see now that Eric's hair was slightly damp, and he guessed he'd already had his shower.  He bit his lip, feeling suddenly shy and awkward.  "Did you sleep well?"

 

"Like a babe," assured Eric.  He grinned over his shoulder at him and winked, his eyes roving over him briefly.  "You look so cute when you're disheveled and sleepy."

 

Alan blushed and combed his fingers through his hair self-consciously.  "I've never considered myself 'cute' when I'm such a mess.  I'll take your offer for a shower."

 

Eric nodded and returned his attention to the food.  "Take as long as you want, sweetheart.  There should be plenty of hot water left." 

 

Alan nodded and left the kitchen to get cleaned up.  As he adjusted the water tap and disrobed, he began to smile again.  He never would have dreamed that he and Eric would actually end up as lovers, though he'd often fantasized about it.  His smile faded and he placed a hand over his heart. He didn't know how long he had to live.  That was technically true of anyone, but there was a difference between the possibility of getting killed on the job or getting into an accident and the certainty of a fatal disease.

 

Knowing his days were numbered only made him more determined to cherish the time he had, and make the most of it.

 

~xox~

* * *

 

Another couple of years passed, and the love that had blossomed between the partnered reapers grew even stronger.  Alan's condition slowly worsened and he suffered spells more often as time went by, but when the thorns weren't active, most wouldn't have even known he was ill.  He stayed active, ate healthy and of course, he had a doting Scotsman to watch over him and nurse him when he had fits.  One day after finishing a couple of assignments together, the couple passed by a bridal shop on the streets of London and Eric got tickled by the way his companion stared with rapt attention at the bride gown displayed in the window.

 

"Something you haven't told me?" teased Eric.

 

Alan gave a little start, and he blushed.  "No."

 

Eric looked at the gown displayed in the window, and he stroked his goatee thoughtfully.  "I think you'd look nice in one of those."

 

Alan blinked at him.  "That's...silly."

 

"Is it?"  Eric met his eyes.  "Grell Sutcliff wears things like that all the time, and nobody looks at him sideways anymore."

 

"That's Grell," insisted the brunet.  "I'm nothing like him."

 

Eric chuckled.  "Thank Styx for that."  He put an arm around him and he glanced around to be sure nobody was nearby, before planting a soft kiss on his cheek.  "Well, if you ever decide you want to try it out, I won't object.  We could get you something in yellow."

 

"Stop teasing me," huffed Alan.  "Just because I think the gown is pretty doesn't mean I want to dress as a woman."

 

Eric shrugged.  "I know that.  I'm just saying that if you ever feel curious, I wouldn't hold it against you."

 

"It isn't the gown," insisted the younger reaper.  He looked at the wedding dress again and he sighed.  "It's...what it represents.  A union between two people; a pledge of love and loyalty."

 

Eric lowered his eyes and scuffed the sole of his shoe against the cobblestone pavement.  "Shinigami have vows too, you know.  Spousal bonds happen every day, and they aren't restricted to opposite genders."

 

Alan looked away, his expression pained.  "Those vows are for people that know they can have a future together.  Come on; we've got reports to file away and I'm starting to feel hungry."

 

Eric watched as his partner turned away and began to walk, and his face bore a similar look of pain on it.

 

~xox~

* * *

 

He'd had another attack—a bad one.  When they brought him into the infirmary, the doctor had to give him adrenaline to keep his heart from faltering.  He was feeling okay now, but his skin had a pallor to it that one would ordinarily attribute to a loss of blood, and he felt weak.  His partner paced his hospital room and Alan watched helplessly, knowing he could say nothing to calm Eric's agitation.  He was hurting him just by being with him, but it was too late to back out of the relationship they'd forged together now.  Eric would always suffer when he suffered, even if they weren't together.  Alan knew the stubborn man would be right at his bedside each time the thorns acted up, whether they were lovers or not.  Besides, he loved him too much to let him go now, anyway.

 

"You'll wear a groove in the floor," warned Alan in a softly teasing voice.  "Eric, I'm fine now.  Please, just come and sit with me for a while."

 

The Scotsman turned to look at him, and Alan saw the glimmer of unshed tears in his eyes.  His heart broke at the sight of it.  "Eric, please don't," he begged, his voice growing husky as his own tears threatened.  "I really hate it when you look like that."

 

Eric swallowed and took off his glasses to rub his eyes hastily.  He replaced them and he walked over to sit on the edge of the bed, taking Alan's hands in his as his accent came back full-force.  "Sorry, love.  I dinnae want yeh ta see me worked up like that.  Sometimes I just cannae help it."

 

"I know."  Alan squeezed his hands.

 

"I feel so damned helpless," sighed Eric.  He pressed Alan's cool hands together and covered them with his own, trying to warm them.  "Alan...I want ta take vows wi' yeh.  I want ta be yer spouse."

 

Alan parted his lips, his brows furrowing as a rush of conflicting feelings nearly overwhelmed him.  He wanted to laugh with joy and weep with sorrow at the same time.  "Eric, I love you more than I've ever loved anything," he said painfully, swallowing a lump that had formed in his throat, "and I can think of nothing else I'd like more than to pledge myself to you for eternity...but I don't _have_ eternity.  I may not even have another year.  I don't want to marry you only to leave you a widower a few months later."

 

Eric squeezed his hands and he shook his head.  "I dinnae care about that.  What matters ta me is tha now, and whether I get ta call yeh ma husband fer a year or twenty, I'll at least have tha chance ta say I was bound to a reaper I love more than life itself.  Unless yeh cannae see yerself as my spouse—"

 

"I didn't say that—"

 

"Then please, say yes."  Eric's gaze was intense and hopeful on him, full of passion and love.  He leaned in to kiss him softly on the lips, and he finished his request in a husky whisper.  "We belong together, sweetheart...in life, an' in death."

 

Alan swallowed again, and the tears he'd been fighting welled up in his eyes.  "You'll _feel_ it, Eric.  You'll feel my pain when the thorns dig in, and when they finally take me."

 

"I'm willing ta share tha' pain wi' yeh."  Eric's determined gaze didn't waver.  "I'll be there wi' yeh 'till tha end, Alan, an' it's only right tha' I share it."

 

"I don't want to see you hurting!  You suffer enough when I have episodes."

 

"I can take it."  Eric smiled tremulously at him.  "Say yes."

 

Alan was helpless to deny him.  He sniffed and nodded, pulling his hands out of the blond's grip to hug him tightly around the neck.  "If you are truly resolved in this, then yes.  We can take our vows as soon as the next full moon comes around."

 

Eric hugged him back and kissed him on the cheek, rocking him gently.

 

~xox~

* * *

 

A few nights later, they found a whole field of erica flowers to stand in while they made their pledge to each other beneath the stars and the light of the full moon.  They spoke in the old tongue of the death gods, vowing to be one another's protectors, loyal helpmates and lovers for as long as they both lived.  It was not a bond to take lightly.  Unlike mortal matrimony, Shinigami vows carried power with them.  It was more than words; it was a spiritual binding.  Only the most dedicated couples made such an unbreakable commitment, but neither Eric nor Alan flinched or hesitated as they held hands, gazed into each other's eyes and made their pledge.

 

They did it in private; not because they didn't want to share this special occasion with their friends, but because it was such a sacred event that required all their focus to complete with accuracy.  When the bond was sealed they both felt it, and they held each other and gasped at the sensations pulsing through them.  They could feel each other as if part of their souls had been exchanged to be forever joined with each other.  For that night, they were truly one soul in two bodies, and they made love under the sky until the sun rose and they had nothing left to give.

 

~xox~

* * *

 

Eric was the first to awake, tangled up in the blanket they'd had the foresight to bring.  He lifted his head and squinted against the late morning sunlight, aching but fulfilled and at peace.  He looked down at his slumbering lover, still rolled up in the second blanket they'd brought for cover.  He smiled, hardly minding that Alan had hogged the covers.  All he could see of him was his mussed brown hair and half his face from the nose up.  He considered waking him so that they could pack up and return to his flat—where Alan had been living for nearly a year already.  He decided he looked too sweet and content to disturb, and he relaxed and pulled him closer, unconcerned with the feel of the warm breeze on his exposed body. 

 

Alan snuggled up to him in his sleep, throwing an arm around his waist.  He mumbled something and Eric nuzzled his hair and told him to go back to sleep.  The scent of the erica flowers surrounded them, and the Scotsman knew that whatever happened, he would always remember this moment and the night they'd shared when he smelled that fragrance.

 

~xox~

* * *

 

-The End       


End file.
